Assumptions
by jacedesbff
Summary: I liked the idea of Clint and Natasha being married before the events of the film, but I wanted to make it believable. This is what came of it. The first chapter involves Steve and Wikipedia, which is always fun. A series of related one-shots.
1. Wikipedia

Assumptions

A/N: Natasha and Clint's romantic history helps Steve cope with the discovery of Wikipedia.

Everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. assumed Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton started sleeping together when he first went to kill her and brought her in instead. Why else would he save her, right? Upon signing on with S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha was immediately paired with Clint, ensuring that everyone assumed their assumptions were correct. The assumers were wrong, of course, but neither Clint nor Natasha cared enough to correct them.

As it so happened, the two assassins didn't begin sleeping together until they had been partners for two years. It happened when the two of them returned to their hotel in Prague after a particularly difficult mission during which each of them had come very close to dying. Clint walked in the door first, put his bow and quiver on the end table, turned around and reached over Natasha's shoulder to shut the door.

He looked her straight in the eye, signaling silently what he was about to do, giving her the opportunity to stop him. She didn't blink. Clint's mouth descended on hers, at which point Natasha attacked him in return. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the next truly coherent thought either of them had was a few hours later.

Clint's hand drifted up and down Natasha's spine as her hand played with the hair on his chest. Clint laughed low in his chest, earning a look up from the woman draped on top of him.

"What?" she asked with a subtle smile.

"I'd say that was inevitable," he answered, the sexy laugh continuing.

She laughed in return. "Well, it was a stressful day."

He pulled her closer to him, pressing his lips to her hair.

"I almost lost you-"

"And I you," she cut him off.

"It brings things to the surface," he said, continuing to hold her tight.

"It certainly brought things to your surface," she purred as her hand drifted lower.

"I love you, Tasha."

Her hand stopped.

"Love is for children," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"So what, that makes me 10? And you're what, nine?" he smiled at her.

"Hello! I'm 10. _You're_ nine," she humphed.

"Shall we see, then, exactly what trouble a couple of children can get into?" he asked in a low tone, the smile evident in his voice, as he rolled on top of her.

Having been partners and eventually best friends for two years by the time they became more, Clint and Natasha had long since shared certain stories about their backgrounds and childhoods. For instance, she knew what Clint thought about family – it had come up one week as they conducted surveillance on a pair of elderly married drug dealers who used their age and marital status to cover up some pretty ruthless business practices. The malevolent couple had been taken out, and Natasha and Clint learned a great deal about each other's attitudes towards the concept of family.

Growing up in the circus, Clint spent most of his youth high up in tent rafters looking down over the families that came to see the sights. Over time, there was a certain kind of family that young Clint looked for, that he yearned to be a part of. After enough years, Clint could pick the five families out of a crowd of 5,000 that went past being related to each other to genuinely wanting to be there together, to liking each other, who went past doing anything for each other, to doing anything to be with each other. Sometimes there were two parents, sometimes one and gender or combinations thereof were immaterial, as were the number of children. In fact, there were couples without children whose obvious devotion to each other went past love and lust to the deeper connection Clint sought – though those were the hardest to spot. Those families, those connections, were what Clint Barton grew up wanting.

As Clint grew into his chosen profession, he had come to realize that his career path would preclude children. Children as a whole were helpless, and any child of his would be a target from the moment they were conceived. Clint Barton, plain and simple, would never make a child a target like that, not in this life or any other. And any woman he committed his life to would have to be not just strong but skilled enough to protect herself even when he couldn't be there. Eventually, while Clint still believed in deep, abiding love and the kind of family that could be built around it, Hawkeye didn't exactly see it as being much of a possibility in his own life.

For the most part, Natasha knew all of this – not that Clint had detailed the emotional depths of the sentiments, but once he opened the door, she had enough training and psychological insight to see into the room. She, in turn, had shared her lack of faith in almost all of the societal constructs existing in the world they occupied. The Soviet system had done an effective job of convincing its young protegee of its intended goal – that natural families were subservient to the state, and of an unintended goal, that the state itself was not to be trusted, thus leaving the burgeoning assassin with nothing and no one to turn to but herself.

By the time Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. Hawkeye and the Black Widow, acknowledged their love for one other (more or less – him more, she less), she knew that he believed in true and lasting commitment, nigh unto marriage, while he knew that she believed in nothing beyond the rare individuals she chose to. Taking all of that into account, the admittedly odd arrangement they settled on shouldn't have been too surprising to the very few who later learned of it. Not that anyone else would have all of the back story to take into account.

Their lives as master assassins necessitated that Clint and Natasha travel to various and sundry parts of the world, many of which hardly anyone had ever heard of. One of those places was a tiny country in central Africa called Zunibia, so tiny that the human trafficking arm of an international terrorist organization that set up shop there were counting on the fact that no one could find the country, much less them and their illegal activities. The terrorists didn't count on S.H.I.E.L.D. and its agents' determination to cut off the group's most profitable enterprise.

So it was that two months after they became lovers, the two of them approached yet another decrepit shanty, Clint muttering to himself more than to Natasha, "Missionaries. The cover story had to be missionaries."

Natasha sighed and, knowing that it fit in with who they said they were, took his hand in hers. They had been knocking on doors all morning without any success. They had, however, talked to several children and their mothers about the horror of their lives and how the two assassins-as-missionaries would try to arrange humanitarian aid from the U.N. to help them. Inured to the world the two of them might be, but it would take the human traffickers themselves to remain unfeeling to the plight of the people Natasha and Clint had spoken with that morning.

Natasha knew that all of this was hitting Clint harder than it was her, and she couldn't bring herself to quell the piece of humanity within him that allowed him to feel such. Instead she raised the hand not holding his to knock softly on the door of the next shanty in front of them.

A thin boy of about seven answered the door. In the local dialect, Clint identified Natasha and himself as Danish missionaries and asked if his mother was home and if they could speak with her. The boy looked back questioningly, and a woman's soft voice instructed him to let the visitors in.

The dust and grit that covered the village hadn't taken as firm hold inside the one-room home. The boy and a girl, perhaps one year younger, moved to sit on a neat, if worn, pallet of blankets next to the woman who was most likely their mother. It was clear that the woman was in the advanced stages of AIDS, a disease afflicting a high percentage of both young and old in the area. Natasha recognized that these children, like so many others in this area, would be orphans soon. Clint's hand squeezed imperceptibly tighter in hers and she turned her head to look at him.

"Mistress," Clint addressed the sick woman whose age was indeterminate – she could have been 20 or 40 – according to local custom, "my partner and I would like to make a proposal to you."

_We would?_ thought Natasha.

"Tradition in your village requires that in order to be recognized, a marriage must have one adult witness, is that correct?"

"Yes," murmured the prone woman.

"If you will serve as the witness for my partner and I, we will see to it that your children are moved to Europe and receive an education there."

Natasha Romanoff, known and feared the world over as the Black Widow, did an actual double-take at her partner's words. _What the hell?_

Seemingly unaffected, the children's mother asked softly, "Why would you do this?"

"We have personal reasons for keeping our marriage quiet, mistress. And you want to a better life for your children."

"I am not the only mother near death in Ka'awani," she replied softly.

"You are the only one we are asking."

The ageless woman regarded them both for a moment.

"I would do anything for my children. Even take the word of a Westerner who would say anything to get what he wants. I will do this for you. I ask only that if you do not see my children to a safe place that you see to their deaths. For that would be preferable to what awaits them as orphans in Ka'awani. My only regret is that I have not been able to bring myself to do this."

"We will see your children to a safe land, mistress," Natasha assured her. She might not have any clue what Clint was thinking or where this had come from, but she was his partner and she would always have his back. Just as he would always have her heart.

Clint turned to her and took her hands in his. Again in the local dialect, he spoke.

"I marry you. I marry you. I marry you."

Looking right back into his solemn eyes, Natasha repeated, "I marry you. I marry you. I marry you."

"Congratulations," said the woman on the pallet with a smile. "You can now visit the town elder and be given a grand home of your own." She gestured feebly to the walls surrounding them.

Despite the insane circumstances and the bizarre events of the last five minutes, all three adults started laughing as the children looked on in confusion.

Three years later, Natasha Romanoff (not even the all-knowing and much-missed Phil Coulson had known that legally her last name was Barton) strode into the communal Avengers kitchen to purloin a carton of milk. She and Clint were out.

"Hi, Steve," she said to the man staring intently at a laptop as he ate a bagel at the kitchen table.

"Hmm," he acknowledged her greeting.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him as she opened the refrigerator and took out the milk.

"What? Oh," he shook himself as he looked up and really looked at Natasha. "I, uh, no, no, I'm fine, yeah. Yeah. Thanks, though."

"Seriously?" she asked, taking the milk with her to the table and sitting down. She couldn't think of another instance in which Steve Rogers hadn't gone out of his way to be polite when a lady entered a room. "Steve? What is it?"

"It's just-" he waved at the screen. "Tony introduced me to – he showed me –"

The tall superhero couldn't seem to get the words out. Natasha was confused. Had Tony Stark told Captain America about online porn? Steve seemed more depressed than embarrassed.

"Something on the Internet?" she prompted Steve.

"Wikipedia," he finally got out.

Natasha tried not to laugh.

"How long have you been on it now?"

"Um, a few hours," he replied. He looked down at the bottom of the computer screen and sat up straighter. "Oh, wow. More like six hours." The captain blinked. "I'm really hungry, come to think of it."

Natasha gave in to her laughter as she got up and pulled cereal, a bowl and a spoon out of various cabinets.

"Wikipedia is like that," she said as she moved around the kitchen. "It sucks you in like a Chitauri wormhole. You're lucky to make it out alive."

"Yeah," Steve affirmed. "I started out reading about World War II. I'm not sure how, but for the last little while I've been reading about marriage statistics in the U.S."

"Been there," Natasha affirmed as she set the food down in front of her teammate and filled the bowl with milk. "Not that exact chain of links, of course, but the same idea." She sat down next to him. "You know you can't trust everything you read there, right? Anyone can make edits to Wikipedia. That's the point."

"I know," he answered, absently picking up the spoon and beginning to eat. "Tony told me. There are links at the bottom, though, that take you to more reliable articles."

Natasha decided now was not the time to discuss the trustworthiness of the Internet as a whole. Better to stick to the issue at hand.

"So the marriage statistics are bothering you?"

"Well, yeah," Steve said, looking morosely at the computer screen. "It's just that so much has changed since I fell asleep, but I thought that – I mean, I know a lot of people live together – you know, outside of marriage, but I didn't realize how many married couples get divorced and how many couples never get married at all. Call me old-fashioned, I just thought that, you know, marriage was still around."

"It is still around, Steve, maybe not in the ways you remember, but it's still there." Wow, she was feeling over her head in this conversation.

"Does it ever last, though? I mean, does anyone who gets married ever stay married? Does marriage mean anything at all anymore?"

"It does to some people," she said softly.

"Name one person at S.H.I.E.L.D. who's happily married," he responded bitterly. "I thought it was because agents and soldiers were too busy, too focused, but it looks like it's because marriage and commitment barely exist anymore. I mean, come on, Romanoff, what are we even fighting for? What are we trying so hard to save?"

Natasha took a deep breath and Steve continued.

"One person, Natasha. That's all I ask. Name one person that I know who's in a happy, committed marriage."

"I can name two."

Steve looked at her in surprise.

"Who?"

"Me and Clint."

The silence stretched between them like a tangible thing, growing larger and larger until finally Steve choked out, "What?"

"Clint and I have been married for three years."

"But you – I mean, you two don't even live together. You have separate apartments."

She smiled. "On the same floor, Steve. Everyone else assumes we've been sleeping together since we met. We haven't, by the way, just for three years. And we're married – happily. Albeit privately."

"Privately," he repeated. "Why is that, exactly?"

The corners of Natasha's mouth curved up slightly. "Aside from the fact that we're private people?" Steve smiled back at her. He couldn't argue that.

"Because in the long run it's safer for everyone to speculate as to whether or not we're a couple than to conclusively know that they could try to use one of us to manipulate the other."

"But everyone knows how committed you are to each other –" Steve cut himself off, unable to ignore the significance of his own statement. He gave her a nod and continued. "I think you can already be used like that, Natasha. Isn't that what Loki did?"

"And how do you think he knew it would be so effective?" she replied. "He knew what no one else did, that he wasn't just threatening Hawkeye's or even Agent Barton's partner, but that he was saying those things to Clint's wife. If anything else, that experience reminded us why we keep this to ourselves."

"But now you're telling me." While it was said as a statement, Steve's comment was clearly a question.

"The world is worth saving, Steve. Love exists everywhere in all kinds of forms." She didn't mention the two pre-teens currently enrolled in neighboring Swiss boarding schools, but she thought of them as she contemplated the love that existed within families. It was the love he had seen in that small Zunibian home that prompted Clint to make the deal that he had. Yes, she knew what Steve was asking about, what he craved in the same way that young Clint Barton had. Sometimes it took only a small reassurance that such love still existed in the world to keep someone going.

There was a pause between them again, this one not quite as pregnant as the previous.

"Three years, huh?"

"Celebrated two weeks after the Battle of New York," she affirmed with a smile.

"Does anyone else know?"

She just smiled in return. Picking up the milk, she stood and moved to exit.

As she did so, Steve chuckled. "It's probably best that Tony not hear about this – not if you two want it kept secret."

"We made JARVIS promise when we first moved in that he would keep it to himself," Natasha answered with a laugh of her own.

Steve's face sobered.

"Thank you, Natasha."

She reached over and put her hand on his for a moment, then left to return to her own floor.

As she got on the elevator, Natasha thought to herself that her husband would understand why she had told Steve about them. After all, what good was family if they didn't support each other when they were needed the most?

/fin


	2. When It Rains, It Pours

**A/N: I wanted to see more of the "Assumptions" universe, notably how (or if) the rest of the team found out that Clint and Natasha were married. It's not quite as easy to keep things on the QT when you have a collection of extremely intelligent superheroes as roommates. Of course that meant I needed to write it. :D Hope you like it!**

**THE AVENGERS**

It never occurred to Tony Stark that Clint and Natasha weren't together.

"Come on," he would say if asked, "have you seen them together? Seriously? If they're not, they should...no wait, there's no way they're not."

Thor wasn't there long enough to form an opinion before he took Loki back to Asgard. If asked, though, he would say that such formidable warriors on the battlefield would make glorious partners in the bedchamber.

Bruce being a keen observer of human nature had his own opinions, but he also believed it was none of his business.

Steve didn't really want to know, but he was the only one who did. To help him when he really needed it, Natasha gave him the overview of her and Clint's relationship, a first for either of them, but one that they were both okay with.

Bruce's vague suspicions were confirmed next, although not on purpose. The scientist was working on some modifications for Hawkeye's bow and quiver and needed Clint's input on certain practical considerations that only the archer would know, so he called Clint's cell.

"Bruce?" Clint sounded worried.

"Hey Clint, I'm working on the weapons project and I have a couple of questions about the aerodynamics of carbon vs. aluminum carbon arrows in practical application. I can only figure out so much by myself, so I have a few questions for the expert."

"Oh, yeah, no problem," said Clint, then there was a pause and Bruce heard Clint speak softly to someone in the background. "It's okay – it's about the weapons modifications he's doing." Another pause. "I know – he probably didn't even notice."

Bruce couldn't help it. "Notice what?" he interjected.

Clint laughed. "It's 3:22 in the morning."

"Oh, my— I'm so sorry! I got so involved, I didn't— Really, Clint!" He would have gone on, but the archer cut him off.

"No problem, Bruce. Hey, it's my weapon you're working on, who am I to complain? What can I help you with?"

A mortified Dr. Banner forced himself to detail his questions for Clint, who succinctly and accurately provided the necessary information, despite having been disturbed in the absolute dead of night.

After he hung up the phone, Bruce sat at his work station in embarrassment. Not only had he woken up his fellow Avenger in the middle of the night, but the archer hadn't been alone. Um, if nothing else, his vague suppositions about Clint and Natasha were confirmed, right? Wow, he was embarrassed.

Even then, Bruce didn't find out the full truth of the assassin pair's involvement until everyone in the Avengers did, on the day that Thor came back.

The team celebrated at dinner, going out for shawarma in the renovated restaurant that had served them so well after the Battle of Manhattan. Then they headed back to the communal floor of the Avengers Tower, at which time Tony took Thor on a tour of the building while everyone else picked out a movie to watch.

By the time Tony and Thor got back, Bruce was sitting on the floor with a bowl of popcorn, Pepper was in the recliner with a glass of wine, Steve was sprawled on a pile of pillows cadging popcorn from Bruce's bowl and Natasha was lying across the couch with her feet in Clint's lap, who was giving her a foot rub.

"I have Midgard living quarters!" announced Thor as he entered the room. The other Avengers obligingly clapped and cheered.

"Hell, yeah, Deuce Coup!" affirmed Tony. "You're one of us – you need your own digs!" He crossed the room and joined Pepper on her recliner. As it wasn't quite big enough for two, Pepper grumbled playfully, but she ultimately made room for Tony to cozy up to her.

"And what is next in our grand celebration?" the demigod asked in his usual booming voice. "Shall we slaughter—"

"NO!" Steve interrupted. "We're going to watch a movie!" He really didn't want to talk about dead animals.

"Ah-ha! And what grand movie will we be watching?" Thor asked as he walked around the couch to sit on the floor next to Bruce and Steve.

"Clint! Natasha!" Thor yelled in surprise. "You are espoused! Congratulations – I did not know!"

The room went both silent and still as everyone stared at the couple on the couch and Clint and Natasha stared at Thor.

Natasha's head whipped around to shoot a questioning look at Steve.

"What? I didn't say anything!" Steve insisted. "And he's been in Asgard! My Starkphone doesn't reach that far!"

"I knew it!" called Tony. "See? I was right!"

Clint laughed. "You thought we were a couple, not that we were married." Tony shrugged smugly as Clint turned his attention to their celestial team member.

"Thor, why do you think Tasha and I are married?"

Thor looked surprised. "Because you're rubbing her feet, of course."

All eyes turned to Thor.

"What?" asked Natasha in amused disbelief.

Thor furrowed his brow as he explained what he clearly felt was a given. "Only married couples rub each other's feet. It is a sign of respect and admiration for the contributions that each brings to the marriage and is often a precursor to lovemaking. I must admit to being a bit surprised that the two of you would conduct such an intimate activity in a public area."

The Avengers were too stunned to speak. Thor eventually broke the silence.

"You and the Black Widow are espoused, are you not, Hawkman?" he asked.

Clint and Natasha looked at each other.

"Well, yeah," Clint answered with a smile.

"You're married?" Bruce burst out. "He's right?"

"Which Steve already knew," Tony pointed out. "Why is that? Don't you love us, too?" the billionaire pouted. Natasha just rolled her eyes in response.

"Steve, how did you know?" Pepper asked, the first person to ask anything in a calm tone as opposed to an outraged one.

The soldier looked to Natasha, who nodded with an amused smile. So far, in fact, the calmest people in the room were the couple in question.

"I was having a rough day," explained Steve. "Natasha was there when I needed a friend. Her and Clint's relationship came up." He turned to Natasha. "I swear I didn't say a word – not to anyone."

'I know, Steve." The deadly assassin smiled. "It's not your fault Asgardians have strange ideas about foreplay."

"So the rubbing of feet is not an intimate activity on Midgard?" Thor asked no one in particular.

Everyone looked at each other, surprise, disbelief and amusement displayed on various faces.

Unexpectedly, it was Bruce who answered. "Un, no, Thor. I wouldn't say it's done in public restaurants, but it's just something friends do for each other."

"But the Widow and the Hawkman are espoused," Thor replied, confused.

Everyone turned back to the couple on the couch. Clint and Natasha exchanged another glance and smiled.

"Just a coincidence, Thor," said Clint.

"And S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know," added Natasha. "We kind of like it that way if you guys don't mind."

"How in the world did you hide the paper trail from S.H.I.E.L.D.?" This was from Tony, prompting yet another amused look between the married couple. It was Steve who answered, though.

"There is no paper trail," the Captain interjected, shrugging as everyone turned to look at him. Responding to the unspoken questions for more details, he turned back to the couple on the couch.

Clint sighed lightly and Natasha rolled her eyes. She knew no one would leave them alone until they shared the details.

"The Mpongwe tribe in Zunibia doesn't have a town hall. You declare yourself married in front of an adult witness and that's it, you're legally married."

"No paper trail," finished Clint, who through all of this had never stopped rubbing Natasha's feet.

There was another pregnant pause as everyone took in this new information.

"Well, there you go," said Bruce. "Hey, folks, the popcorn's getting cold. We gonna watch Raiders of the Lost Ark or what?"

"You're gonna love this, Steve. You, too, Thor," Clint chimed in. "One of the best action movies ever made."

"I just want to say that I knew all along." Tony, of course, had to have the last word.

"Yes, you're a genius, dear. Thanks for letting us know," said Pepper with a smirk, pecking her boyfriend's cheek and pulling him down to snuggle with her, effectively silencing him.

As everyone settled in and the movie started, covert glances were thrown towards Clint and Natasha. They were married? Really? It wasn't until about half an hour into the movie, though, that those covert glances turned up anything interesting. Because Clint was no longer rubbing Natasha's feet. She was rubbing his.

/fin

**THE AVENGERS**

**A/N: I hope you like it! I can't decide whether to write more stories in this universe or not. There could be a series of one-shots set both before and after the film. It depends on if there's interest. Let me know what you think!**


	3. Seriously? Wait, What Just Happened?

**Addicted-to-Sugar-Quills asked if I could write a one-shot about Fury finding out. This came out. Hey, any chance to write about Samuel L. Jackson is a good one, right? Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews, favorites and alerts – wow! I expect some more one shots in this universe – thank you for your encouragement. :D**

**~~THE AVENGERS~~**

Pepper raced into the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical center already yelling.

"Is she okay? What's going on? Will someone please tell me how she is?"

Thor's booming voice answered. "The Widow is in surgery, good lady. The doctors and our own Dr. Banner are confident that she will be okay." The Avengers always referred to Bruce as Dr. Banner when he was aiding one of them in a medical capacity. It was possible they didn't even realize they did it.

By the time Thor was halfway through his explanation, Tony was in Pepper's arms hugging her.

Pepper asked in a quieter voice, "How is he?"

Clint was pacing on the far side of the room, doing his best to wear a path in the tile flooring. His head was down and he wasn't looking at anyone.

"About as well as I'd be doing if – God forbid – you ever crouched over in pain like that," Tony answered.

Pepper's breath hitched. "Please, tell me what happened. All I got were your texts that Natasha was in the hospital, then in surgery, and then you didn't answer me when I texted back."

Tony grimaced. "The medical wing cuts off cell phone service." He looked back over at Clint. "I didn't want to leave him."

"None of us did," Steve added from where he was anxiously sitting. The waiting room was small and they could all hear each other.

"Where is Bruce?" Pepper asked.

Steve answered.

"Clint asked him to stay back to there to make sure someone he trusted would keep him updated."

"Okay, I keep getting distracted. WHAT HAPPENED?" Pepper's momentary calm had clearly passed.

"We were in our apartment," said Clint, not stopping his pacing.

_~~TWO HOURS EARLIER~~_

Clint was surfing the Internet, reading about the archery competition in the upcoming Olympics. It was a small world, competitive archery, and Clint liked to follow what was going on. He had even attended the last three summer Olympics just so he could see his fellows compete.

He was shaken from his concentration by a strange sound coming from the bathroom. It sounded like a moan.

That couldn't be right. Tasha was the only person in the apartment and Tasha did not moan. At least, not unless Clint was giving her good reason.

"Tasha? Are you okay?"

In answer, Tasha stumbled out of the bathroom, clutching her left side and looking pale.

"Something's...wrong," she panted. "My stomach...side...has been hurting for a couple days, but nothing like this."

"JARVIS!" yelled Clint as he sprinted to her side. "We need to get Tasha to S.H.I.E.L.D. medical! Make it happen!"

"Immediately, sir. Do you want me to notify the rest of the Avengers, sir?"

"Yes!" Clint had his arms around Natasha and was helping her to the door.

"Why didn't you say anything, Tasha?"

She gave him a look, and he just nodded. Of course she hadn't said anything. Neither of them would ever say anything about a stupid pain in their stomach.

_~~THE PRESENT~~_

"How long had she been hurting?" asked Pepper, quiet again as Tony kept his arms around her.

"Three or four days, I think," answered Clint. "She's actually seemed tired for a couple of weeks, ever since the Ukraine mission, but we thought she had just been working too hard, you know? I couldn't get her to take it easy, of course, but she skipped a couple of rounds in the gym. I should have made her go to the doctor – or at least talk to Bruce!" The archer's tone was full of anguish.

Everyone jumped to his defense.

"Come on, Clint, you couldn't have predicted this!" said Steve.

"She is a warrior! Warriors do not give up so easily!" thundered Thor.

"Clint, don't do this to yourself!" Pepper insisted.

Tony went up to his friend, put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Clint. It's not your fault. Let's just wait and see, okay?"

Tony's hand made Clint still for just a moment, forcing the man to look him in the eye. Clint nodded before resuming his pacing.

At that moment, Bruce entered the room wearing scrubs and looking tired himself.

"She's going to be okay," he announced.

There was a collective release of tension throughout the room and Clint suddenly leaned against the wall, almost as though he was deflating.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"In a little while," Bruce answered. "She's in post-op right now."

"What happened?" several voices chimed.

"It was an enlarged spleen," Bruce began and, seeing the collection of confused faces, he hurried to explain. "Natasha has mononucleosis."

Again there was a general cacophony of response.

"What?"

"How?"

"How long?"

"Seriously?"

Only Clint was silent.

"It looks like she's had it for a few weeks, possibly a month. She would have been feeling tired and run-down," Bruce paused and looked to Clint, who nodded dejectedly. "Enlarging of the spleen is actually a somewhat common side effect of mono, although it doesn't usually get this severe."

"Why did it get so bad for her?" asked Steve.

Bruce looked reluctant to continue, but seeing that he wasn't going to be able to avoid it, he did.

"Natasha had to have been in growing pain for a few days now. Most people would have seen a doctor sooner."

Clint interrupted before Bruce could go any further.

"Can I go see my wife now?"

"Your what?"

The Avengers whipped around to see Nick Fury standing in the entrance to the waiting room.

"Let me get this straight," the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. went on. "You're telling me that one of my best agents just had a splenectomy because she has mono, the kissing disease?"

There was a pause. Clearly this wasn't the first question the team expected.

"Yes, sir," Bruce finally said, feeling like he was the logical person to answer.

Fury turned to Clint. "So, Agent Barton, does this mean that you will be getting sick next, as I assume that you and your _wife_ have kissed in the past few weeks?"

Clint didn't flinch, but he didn't look like he was enjoying the conversation, either. "No, sir. I've already had mono, sir."

"Have you now?" returned the director.

"Yes, sir. Actually, sir, it's entirely possible that Tasha contracted mono from me."

"And why is that, Agent Barton?"

"Once you've had mono, the disease stays in your system. Even if you don't show symptoms, it is possible to pass it on to someone else. Usually it only happens with teens and young adults, though. I don't know what happened here."

"Dr. Banner?" Fury turned to Bruce for confirmation.

"He's correct, sir, although Agent Romanoff could have gotten the virus some other way. There's really no way to tell."

"Don't you mean Agent Barton?" asked Fury.

"Sir?" Bruce was confused and Fury turned back to Clint.

"You are married, aren't you, Agent Barton?" Fury barked. "Doesn't that mean that we should be calling your wife Agent Barton?"

Without missing a beat, Clint answered, "She chose to keep her maiden name, sir. Agent Romanoff is the correct way to address her."

Fury raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further.

"This isn't a problem, sir," Steve stepped in. "Agents Barton and Romanoff have been married for over three years and it has never impacted their job performance in any way."

Director Fury arched an eyebrow and flashed what almost looked like a smile before responding.

"I'm aware, Captain."

Steve shot a quick look at the other Avengers.

"Of what, sir? That it hasn't affected their performance?"

"Of the length of the agents' marriage."

"Excuse me, sir?" Steve was dumbfounded, as was everyone else in the room.

Fury's lip curved up in a slight, rather smug, smile. "Really, Agent Barton, did you think that two of our best and most valued assets could marry and we wouldn't know about it? Zunibia may be tiny, but it isn't invisible."

Someone gasped.

"We are S.H.I.E.L.D., ladies and gentlemen. You would do well to remember that." The director looked around at each of them. "I'm glad to hear that Agent Romanoff will be all right. Keep me updated on her progress."

Fury turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, sir," Steve called. Fury turned back.

"Yes?"

"Why did you act like you didn't know? When you first walked in?"

Fury finally let loose with a real smile.

"It was funny."

The director's eyes swept over the group. "Do me a favor, though, and continue to keep the agents' relationship to yourselves. I have enough to worry about without the rest of our agents getting the idea that intermarrying is suddenly okay."

"Did Coulson know?" Barton asked, calm as ever.

Fury didn't respond aloud, rather giving his agent a look that said, _Seriously_?

"Of course he did," Clint muttered with an amused huff.

The director raised an amused eyebrow of his own, turned on his heel and left.

The Avengers stood there, looking at each other, stunned. Clint broke the silence.

"I'm going to go see my wife. Thank you all for being here. I'll let her know you're here – it will mean a lot to her," and with that, he headed through the door Bruce had come through, the good doctor following close behind.

"I hate that man," muttered Tony, looking back at the door through which the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had exited.

"No, you don't," said Pepper, "you just hate that he knew before you did." Tony just made a humphing noise in return.

"Well," said Steve, "I'm not leaving until I get to see Natasha for myself."

"Neither am I, friend," confirmed Thor. "And I have to say, life is never boring on Midgard!"

"That's for damn sure," replied Tony, sitting down, Pepper at his side.

And the rest of the Avengers settled in, waiting for their turn to go sit at the bedside of their friend and teammate.

/fin


	4. It Takes One

**I see Clint and Natasha as a functional married couple. This chapter developed from that concept. **

**~~THE AVENGERS~~**

Natasha was, reluctantly, lying in bed with mono. Clint sat on the couch and remembered.

**~~THE AVENGERS~~**

He watched her for two weeks before he took her down. Clint didn't mind killing. There were people in the world who needed to die and there were a limited amount of people in the world who could take care of the first kind. He didn't mind it, but he didn't do it blindly, either. He did his homework before completing any assignment. But yeah, this was the first time he had ever decided not to kill the target.

Natasha woke up and her hand flew to her neck as she remembered the feel of the dart.

"It was a tranquilizer."

Natasha sat up and mentally inventoried herself while simultaneously sizing up the black-clad mercenary in front her.

"You had weapons in some interesting places," the man remarked.

Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. She could only assume that the man had a death wish. Was he aware that the only reason he was still alive was that she had to find out how _anyone_ had brought her down? Clearly she had a weakness that she needed to take care of before she could get rid of this guy.

"I'm well aware that you don't need a weapon to be dangerous and, no, I didn't go exploring when I took your weapons off of you."

Was she supposed to care? Like he would live long enough to glory in it regardless.

"I was sent here to kill you."

Natasha looked down at herself and back up at the guy with a raised eyebrow. The unspoken question was clear.

"Nikolas Quaylas."

Natasha went still as a stone. Why would he bring that up?

"You're not the only assassin who's good at their job, Widow."

Normally Natasha would dispute this, but this man had brought her down.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"Join S.H.I.E.L.D.," he replied.

"The Americans?" she snorted. "Hardly."

"You didn't get paid for Quaylas."

"Collateral damage."

"You don't have collateral damage. You took him out."

Natasha looked away from him for the first time. "Why would I do that?"

"It takes one to know one," he said simply. "Rutomas's chief of staff was beating the crap out of his daughter. You figured it out while you were casing Rutomas and you made it a double hit."

Natasha blew out a breath. "Why do you care?"

"Takes one to know one."

**~~THE AVENGERS~~**

Clint sat on the couch and remembered that moment. Because it was memories like that that would keep him from stapling his wife to the bed. Or pulling in a few favors and getting The Hulk to sit on her. Natasha was not taking forced bed rest very well. And Clint was frustrated.

That moment...

Clint went into their bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.

"What?" his wife asked petulantly.

"Go," he said, pointing to the open door.

"What?" Now she was wary.

"You're free to go. I'm not going to force you to stay in bed anymore."

"You're not." Clearly she didn't believe him.

"Nope."

She raised her eyebrow disbelievingly. He loved that eyebrow.

"It takes one to know one, Tasha."

She froze.

Damn.

"And how good of a patient were you?" she asked, sounding like the sullen kid he had been when he had mono.

"I was 11, Tash. You're a grown woman." Clint sat down on the bed next to her and put his hand on hers. "I love you. You know that. But I'm not going to be your jailer anymore."

Natasha took a deep breath and leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. Sometimes it was hard being so close to someone who understood you so well.

He kissed her head, his hand stroking her hair.

"Tell you what," he said, his mouth still buried in her hair. "I'll get everyone together and we'll have a Superman movie marathon. That way you can snarl at anyone who looks at you for too long."

She laughed softly. "We can skip the fourth one, right?"

Clint chuffed. "You have to ask?"

She put her hand on his chest. "What about tomorrow when Fury calls? When the world suddenly needs saving?"

He pulled her close. "Then Pepper will come up here with you and work on her laptop while you sulk and use your own laptop to try and track our movements."

She really wanted to make some remark about how she could sneak onboard the Quinjet and go herself. But...it takes one to know one.

She sighed. "Think Tony would set it up so I can at least listen on the comm chatter?"

Clint leaned back and looked at her. "I don't know. Think you can stay calm enough not to blow your stitches?"

"I do have rapid healing, you know," she pointed out.

"And it doesn't make you invincible," he replied.

She put her head back on his shoulder.

"You gonna get mad if I make sighing noises at Brandon Routh?"

He recognized compromise when he saw it.

"As if. He may be able to leap tall buildings, but I can still shoot better from the top of them."

Natasha smiled and pulled back.

"You round everyone up. I'll make my way down there."

Clint kissed her on her forehead and stood up.

"See you in a few minutes." He could compromise, too.

/fin

**I'd love to hear your response to my view of our favorite assassins. Hope you enjoy!**


	5. Oh That Was Subtle

**Marriage can be hot. Not rated M, but not for the faint of heart, either. **

~~THE AVENGERS~~

Natasha enjoyed her and Clint's sex life. A lot. And right now she missed it. A lot. She and Clint hadn't been able to make love in the month since her surgery – at first because she was recovering from surgery and then because she was still recovering from mono, although by the end of the month that second one was more at Clint's insistence than hers.

Before she and Clint got together, sex had been a tool for Natasha, a weapon to be used like any other. Since their relationship had begun, though, her view of sex had changed considerably. It was fun, an expression of how she and Clint felt about each other, something that helped them both deal with their lives. Basically, sex was fantastic, and she wanted it back.

Over the past week, Natasha's health had turned a corner. Her stamina had bounced back and her side didn't hurt anymore. She was ready to get back to being an Avenger and even more, to having an active sex life with her husband. Clint would even agree with her – if he had been in the country any time over the last week. But the archer and the rest of their team had been in Columbia helping to train anti-drug and -terrorist forces. Fortunately the men were scheduled to be home by the evening, and Natasha was very much looking forward to that.

Pepper and Jane were there that evening to help welcome the guys back, and per tradition, the entire team set up shop in the living room to watch a movie and eat dinner together. Notably as this mission hadn't run the risk of anyone dying, it was definitely worth celebrating.

Natasha stretched out on the couch with her feet in Clint's lap. She had welcomed Clint back enthusiastically (but not overly so) in front of the rest of the team. While what she wanted to do was grab her husband and drag him to their apartment the minute he got back, she knew they would never live down the reaction if she did. That didn't mean, of course, that she couldn't have a little fun.

Clint wasn't quite in the mood to sit through "The Wizard of Oz", but it was Steve's night to pick the movie, and the Captain said it was time for everyone to watch a movie that he liked for a change. Clint had to admit that it was only fair. The film was still in black and white when Natasha's heel started rubbing in Clint's lap, causing him to sit up straighter and shoot his wife a look.

What the hell?

She did it again.

Seriously? They were in a room filled with very observant people, what was she –

Oh. She felt better. _Right_. He had seen that the minute she hugged him hello. Her body had finally gotten down to brass tacks and healed. And now she wanted to play.

Clint shot another look at the face attached to the predatory foot. This look was a challenge.

Game on.

There wasn't anything Clint could do about his own...situation...at the moment, at least not in a room full of his friends and co-workers, but if he had to be like this, then she was going to be, too.

Clint took hold of Tasha's ankles and pulled her farther across his lap. Anyone looking at them would see a world-class assassin massaging his wife's calf; if they were to look closely (which of course they would pretend not to do), they might notice that the assassin's other hand was lazily stroking the inside of his wife's elbow. Which, because Clint knew his wife very, very well, was driving her as crazy as her foot had just driven him. The inside of her elbow, right? Who knew? Clinton Francis Barton, that's who.

Natasha gritted her teeth and sat up to sit next to her husband. The aforementioned observer might even term her current position "snuggling"; he or she wouldn't likely call it that _out loud_, but they might think it. What Natasha was really doing was putting herself in a position to gently play with the fine hair at the base of Clint's neck, her way of saying, "I see your bet and raise you."

Why reinvent the wheel? Clint started gently running his index finger back and forth over the inside of Natasha's other elbow.

Agent Romanoff called on years of training to regulate her breathing. No, she absolutely did not want to rip this man's clothing off right here and now to the background chorus of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead". Nope. Not at all.

She moved her fingers from Clint's hair to that one spot right behind his ear.

"Sorry, guys. I think I'd better get Natasha downstairs."

Natasha shrugged helplessly.

Clint was very careful to make sure that Natasha stayed between him and the rest of the Avengers as they got up and headed toward the elevator. That way everything stayed hidden. Of course it did.

Tony agreed when everyone moved in that he wouldn't keep surveillance cameras in anyone's private quarters, but the elevators were fully wired. So as soon as the elevator doors shut behind them, Clint moved his stunningly beautiful wife against the back of the box and locked eyes with her. Between the communal floor and their own, the phrase "copulatory gaze" acquired new depths of meaning.

The two of them moved out of the elevator still not having said a word since leaving their friends. Natasha grabbed Clint's shirt and pulled him against her. As their lips met, her back hit the wall. The kiss started out intense and got more passionate from there. Natasha licked and teased Clint's bottom lip as he wrapped his hands tightly through her hair. His mouth opened over hers and their tongues met, both eager to lay claim to the other.

Her leg raised to pull him closer to her and he pulled her head back to rain kisses down the side of her neck. She began playing with the hair at the base of his neck again and he moved back up to whisper in her ear.

"You better have gotten your stamina back."

She put her other leg around him at the same time that he moved to pick her up and carry her into their bedroom.

Back in the communal living room, the rest of the Avengers rolled their eyes at each other. How could two internationally-renowned, universally-feared master assassins possibly be that bad at subtly? Tony took bets on what time Clint and Natasha would show the next day. As it turned out, Bruce won.

He said the pair wouldn't emerge at all.

/fin

**Thanks for reading! I may have one or two chapters left. We'll see! **


	6. Sleeping in Trees in Siberia

**I'm reading a book called "The Power of Habit". I'm also reading a LOT of Clint/Natasha fic, one of which referenced Natasha's attitude toward habits. This combination of book and fic sparked the beginning of this chapter. Unfortunately, I cannot for the life of me find the fic that talked about Natasha and habits (seriously, I've been reading a LOT; I'm a teacher and it's summer vacation). If anyone knows what/where the fic that references habits is, please let me know as I would love to credit the author for their inspiration. **

**Also, this chapter took a bit longer to write because it took longer to formulate and visualize. Sometimes it's just like that. I hope you feel that the wait was worth it. (And it's twice as long as the last few chapters.) Thank you for reading (and favoriting and following!) **

**~~THE AVENGERS~~**

The Black Widow was used to working alone. She understood perfectly well why S.H.I.E.L.D. paired Hawkeye with her on her first few missions. She didn't like it, but she understood it. As to working with a partner, Natasha made a conscious effort not to develop habits as an operative. Habits made spies predictable and predictability got spies killed very quickly. That concentrated lack of habit enabled her to be flexible enough to adapt to having a partner, but that didn't mean she wanted to, and she certainly didn't want it to become a habit.

Something interesting happened, though, as she and Hawkeye worked together – Natasha didn't hate it. The sharp-eyed S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was skilled in his profession, and he was good at having her back. He also knew to mix things up, to act in unexpected ways. She genuinely wasn't sure if growing accustomed to working with a partner qualified as a habit. Ultimately she decided that if she could work both with _or_ without a partner, flexibility was maintained and all was for the best.

Of course, it only worked because the archer was very good at what he did. He took out direct threats to her on their first two missions, situations she could have eliminated herself, but having a partner take care of it made the resolution that little bit faster; on a mission, that little bit could make all the difference. This man who recruited her to S.H.I.E.L.D., this man who might well be the only person who had ever understood her upon meeting her, this man was very, very good at his job. Natasha never told Hawkeye that, but she didn't argue when Fury teamed them, and she started thinking of him as Clint. She could pay him no higher compliment.

For his part, Clint recognized that he and Natasha worked well together. She was the first partner he had been paired with who he was actually willing to call "partner". The rest had been agents he happened to work on the same cases with. He and Natasha were able to use a minimum of words to communicate exactly what was necessary during a mission. They both knew and understood what was needed and when, as well as how to best work together to get it done. The bottom line was that the two of them complimented each other in the field. That was rare for anyone; for two master assassins used to working alone, it was nigh unto miraculous.

Even as their ability to reach their objectives together grew, though, a wall remained between the operatives. Not only did the emotional boundaries each had put in place over the years stay in place as they worked with each other, in an odd way, they became harder to break down. This was because like it or not, the two of them understood each other so instinctively, so instantly, that it frightened them on a level they didn't usually access. Because nothing scares an emotionally closed-off individual more than the idea that someone might breach their painstakingly-built protective barriers. Every relationship has a turning point, though, a time when walls must come down in order for the partnership to progress, and the same was true for Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

The two of them had been working together for eight months and served several missions together. On the mission in question, they were coming back together after each working a solo mission for the first time since Barton had recruited the initially reluctant agent. The two spies were assigned to take out a Russian arms dealer, Mikhael Anosov. Unfortunately for them, the mark was an exceedingly paranoid man whose safety measures made killing him extremely difficult. In a rare occurrence for Hawkeye and the Black Widow, their first attempt to take out Anosov failed. It also alerted Anosov to his targeted status and he ran for the hills – literally.

Contrary to popular belief, Siberia is not a snow-covered wasteland, at least not year-round. In fact, much of the Siberian wilderness is quite beautiful forests and mountains. And it was to his cabin in these picturesque woods that Anosov ran, necessitating that Clint and Natasha follow. Into the woods. In Siberia. The pair was not completely without fortune, though. One of Clint's arrows had struck Anosov's SUV. When the arrow was removed, a tiny GPS tracking device remained in the hole, so the agents knew where to go. Unfortunately, they had to get there on foot, as every road that could possibly lead to the cabin was being closely watched.

People who didn't know them might assume that Clint and Natasha would both crash and burn in the woods, but they would be wrong. While not backwoods experts, each had more than a modicum of experience in outdoor settings. Growing up in the circus, Clint had pitched a tent in many a wooded area, and circus folk were not always welcome in the local town. They adapted. Between that and his military training, he was well-equipped for the task at hand. For Natasha's part, training in outdoor survival skills was part and parcel of Red Room training. While the two agents weren't thrilled about tracking a skeazy arms dealer through the woods, neither were they incapable of doing so.

They entered the woods at about 11 in the morning and spent until 11 that night tramping through the woods. Anosov's rural hideout was quite far into the countryside and by the time Natasha and Clint stopped for the evening, they still had about ten miles to go.

"I really hate this guy," said Clint as he took rations out of his backpack. Each of them had one filled with basic necessities (as well as a variety of deadly weapons).

"You and me both," replied Natasha tiredly. It had been an exhausting day spent navigating tree roots, ground cover, small and medium-sized streams, and small and medium creatures.

The two of them quietly and efficiently set out a simple meal, ate and got ready for sleep. They hadn't talked much as they hiked that day. Their focus had been on covering as much ground as possible in the shortest amount of time. Now their conversation consisted of weary talk about the next day's plan.

"We'll need to find his cabin as quickly as possible," began Clint.

"Assess its weaknesses," said Natasha.

"And take the bastard out," finished Clint.

"Then we steal one of his cars and drive the hell out of the woods," Natasha reassured herself.

Looking around, Clint murmured, "We should sleep up high."

"You're not serious." Natasha really did not want to climb a tree.

"You saw the animals today. I don't want to be a chew toy," clarified Clint.

"Trees are supposed to be _your_ thing," grumped Natasha. She was too tired for this.

"Don't worry – I'll share a branch with you." Clint's tone of voice said that if he had more energy, he might have laughed. As it was, he sounded vaguely amused.

Natasha set about suspending their supplies up off the ground with some of the rope in their packs while Clint found a good place for them to spend the night.

In a short amount of time, the two of them were essentially snuggled together several feet up in the wide branches of a cedar tree. They were exhausted and fell asleep immediately, both ready to wake in an instant.

They headed out with the sun the next morning, reaching Anosov's stronghold before the heat of the day arrived. They spent the next several hours running reconnaissance, which was both fruitful and surprising. Fruitful because they learned what they needed to, surprising because Mikhael Anosov had to be the most paranoid bad guy either of them had ever encountered. The long and short of it was that the two spies were going to have to take drastic measures to get rid of him.

Well wrapped in the bottom of each of the agent's backpacks were substantial amounts of C4 explosives. Hawkeye and the Black Widow spent most of the evening strategically setting the C4 around Anosov's cabin. Of course, doing so involved evading patrols, electronic sensors, even navigating landmines. It was an interesting evening.

An hour before sunrise, the assassins set off the explosives, obliterating everything and everyone in the cabin and its nearby environs. Most of the landmines were also set off, ensuring that every car in the area was damaged beyond repair.

Once the smoke and noise died down, Clint and Natasha set about making sure that their target had been eliminated. This necessitated digging through smoldering rubble, ensuring that they didn't step on any still-active landmines and required looking much more closely at charred human remains than anyone but a coroner should ever have to. Sure enough, they were able to identify one of the bodies as Anosov by the mouth full of gold teeth and the fact that he was missing his right hand pinky finger. After preserving a sample for DNA testing, the pair of assassins headed away from the remote hideout.

Because the cars had been destroyed and their surveillance had shown guards trading out shifts on the roads, Clint and Natasha decided it would be safer to go back the way they had come, over land. The journey wasn't as hurried and intense as the trip inward had been, though, and the two of them were able to talk to each other.

Clint broke the companionable silence.

"I missed you in Istanbul."

"What?" Natasha was surprised.

Clint continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Something didn't feel right when I got there. It was weird, though, it wasn't that feeling you get in your gut when you know something's wrong with the mission. That felt fine. I couldn't figure it out. The whole thing was making me grumpy."

Clint paused to look at Natasha. She knew as well as he did that Clint didn't get "grumpy" on missions. He was professional and businesslike, efficient and focused. Back in the real world was one thing, but on a mission? "Grumpy" did not figure in.

Clint continued.

"I didn't want to go into the mission like that, so I took a couple hours and figured out what was wrong." He looked at his partner. "You weren't there. I'd gotten used to working with you and it didn't feel right not to have you there." Clint nodded to himself. "Once I figured that out, I was fine. Took care of the mission, got my new orders and met you here."

Natasha stopped and Clint halted behind her as she turned to face him. They stood in the forest for a moment looking at each other. Then Natasha turned back and continued on, Clint close behind.

"I like working with you," said the woman in the lead. "We make good partners."

Natasha didn't have to say anything else. Clint knew exactly how meaningful his partner's statement was.

And with that, the floodgates opened and slowly but surely, Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff and Clint "Hawkeye" Barton began telling each other about their lives. Clint spoke of growing up in the circus, of joining the army and then S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha gave an overview of the Black Widow program. As the day went on and they continued through the forest, each of the agents provided gradually more detailed stories, occasionally allowing emotion to bleed through.

By the time they stopped for the night, Clint and Natasha's tongues were tired, a first for both of them. Again they climbed a tree and leaned against one another as they slept. Rather than sexual tension, which might be expected in such a situation, instead there was almost a sense of relief. Each of them had found the person they could finally talk to, the person they could trust with their secrets. Because the truth of human nature is that no matter how closed off a person is, everyone yearns to have a true friend, someone who understands them, someone who will have their backs. For both Clint and Natasha, this was the first time in their adult lives that they could claim to have such a friend.

When the pair reached civilization the next afternoon, it was as true partners. And it was with that connection, that new level of trust, that the two of them approached subsequent missions. Hawkeye and the Black Widow quickly garnered the reputation of being S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best, the agents to go to when nothing else worked or the task seemed hopeless. While either could and did work well on their own, it was when they partnered that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s two best agents became the stuff of legend.

And when, sixteen months later, their relationship turned another corner and became something more, to them it seemed a natural progression of things. The two simply continued doing what they did while (the majority of) S.H.I.E.L.D. was none the wiser as to the change.

So it was that when Agent Coulson called Natasha to tell her that Agent Barton had been compromised, Natasha got the hell outta Dodge (or Russia, as the case may be) and set out to recover her partner. The Black Widow had embraced the habit of working with her hawk and it was a habit she didn't intend to break. Heaven help anyone that stood in her way.

/fin

**I anticipate one more chapter. Please let me know how you liked this one. I'm very curious as to the reception of this "flashback" episode. Thank you so much for reading!**


	7. Didn't See That Coming

**And we reach the conclusion! Your response to this story has kept me going and made this a pleasure to write. Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews, your favorites and follows. I love the characters in The Avengers, notably (I think it's fairly obvious) Clint and Natasha. It's been awesome playing in Marvel's sandbox. I will definitely be writing more in this world and possibly more in this particular rendition of it (although it would be a different series set in the Assumptions universe.) **

**One quick note – I'm using dramatic license as far as the timing of the medications involved goes. I don't actually know the pharmacological details. (I teach Drama, not science. **:-) **) I hope you enjoy the final chapter of Assumptions and I hope you will share your reactions to the chapter and series. Thank you! Jada :D**

~~THE AVENGERS~~

Natasha woke up slowly, quite decadently by her standards. As she stretched, her hand skimmed across her husband's chest. She loved the play of muscle across Clint's torso and she knew the scars and marks across his front as well as she knew her own. This was definitely a nice way to wake up.

Answering the call of nature, she headed into the restroom. A few minutes she later she came back out, a much more solemn expression across her countenance. She sat down somewhat heavily on the side of the bed.

"Tasha?" asked Clint sleepily.

No reply.

"Tasha?" he called again.

Still no reply.

The archer blinked his eyes and sat up to find his wife sitting on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

_Natasha jumped?_

"Natasha, are you okay?" There was an edge to his voice.

The use of her full name got his wife's attention. Sort of.

"Hmm?" she answered distractedly.

Clint scooted closer to the redhead he adored and turned her face towards him with his hands.

"Natasha," he began, making sure this time that he she was really looking at him. When her eyes finally met his, they were still rather glazed, but Clint at least thought she was listening. Seriously, where had this come from?

"What is wrong?" he spoke deliberately.

"We need to buy a pregnancy test," she said simply.

Clint was suddenly unable to form words, joining his wife in her shock. After a moment, he shook himself.

"How late are you?"

"Four days."

_Four days? _Natasha was never late and they both knew it. For her, four days was an eternity.

She continued. "I didn't worry about it the past few days, but this is—well, it seems like time to check."

"Did you miss a pill while you were sick?"

"Um, at the beginning, yeah, but I went back on it before we started having sex again."

"Hmm," Clint made a noise, not angry or irritated, just trying to figure things out.

Natasha answered his unspoken question.

"It was probably the antibiotics."

Clint's eyebrows shot up.

"Huh. I thought that was an old wives' tale."

Natasha blinked and looked at him.

"I guess the wives were right."

They looked at each other for a moment and then Clint clapped his hands together, startling Natasha. Again.

"Let's go!" he announced. He could see that this had seriously thrown his wife for a loop and, hey, he couldn't blame her. It wasn't often that he got to take care of his wife, though, and he was glad for another opportunity.

Clint got them up and dressed, by which time Natasha for the most part had recovered her equilibrium. They didn't see anyone as they left the Avengers Tower and set out to walk to a drugstore a few blocks away. It seemed prudent to avoid the one nearest their building.

"You've always said you didn't want children," she remarked as they walked, hands linked.

"So have you," he noted.

"It's only been four days. I might not even be pregnant."

"I know."

"With mono and the surgery, I could just be, you know, late."

Clint nodded. "It's a definite possibility."

"But what if I'm not?" she asked, her tone striving for neutrality.

Clint didn't answer right away, and Natasha tried not worry. Attuned to his wife as he was, Clint squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"I'm not upset, Nat, just thinking."

Natasha relaxed an almost imperceptible amount and gave her husband the freedom to ponder. They had covered half a city block before Clint spoke again.

"Our lives aren't what they were before," he began. Natasha glanced at him before he continued; she knew he meant the Avengers. "We aren't as isolated as we were. We're not on our own."

She looked at him in concentration, barely noticing as they crossed the street.

"My reason for not wanting kids has always been that it would be too dangerous for them, that it would be irresponsible to bring a child into the world when doing so would automatically make him or her a target."

Natasha took in a deep breath at Clint's words.

He went on as though he hadn't noticed.

"But it isn't just us anymore."

He stopped talking and Natasha looked up to see that they were at the door of the drugstore. She inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. She didn't think she had been this unaware of her surroundings since...well, ever. It was a really good thing that Clint had seen to it that they were at least somewhat disguised. Hats, sunglasses, loose-fitting clothing. Because if someone looked closely at her, she probably wouldn't even notice, certainly not enough to take pains to hide who she was. And no one out there needed to know that the Black Widow and Hawkeye were out buying a pregnancy test.

She opened the door and they went inside, putting their discussion on hold while they bought two different brands of pregnancy test. No reason to risk being overheard in such an enclosed setting.

Back on the street, Clint continued as though they hadn't been interrupted.

"We are who we are, we do what we do, and that isn't going to change. I wouldn't expect you to quit your job just because you have a baby." Natasha nodded as her husband kept going. "Neither would I. That doesn't mean things wouldn't change for us, but..." It was Clint's turn to take a deep breath. "I mean, come on, we would have Iron Man, The Hulk, Thor and Captain America helping us to keep our child safe."

They walked on in silence, hands entwined for some time, both lost in thought.

As they neared their building, Natasha squeezed Clint's hand, stopped and broke the silence.

"It really is a different set of circumstances, isn't it?"

Her husband looked at her. "Yeah. I think it really is."

The two of them went up to their floor and Natasha went into the bathroom and took care of business, then came out of the restroom to await the results with Clint.

"I wonder," he said as she approached him where he stood, leaning against the dresser.

Her expression was expectant.

"I wonder," he repeated, "if this test is negative..."

Natasha moved to stand in-between Clint's legs. He put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Even if this test is negative," he said again. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to think about having a baby, anyway. On purpose, that is."

Natasha stared at her husband and slowly, they both began to smile.

They stood together, bound in more ways than one, until the timer went off, pulling them out of their mutual reverie. The couple walked back into the restroom.

Both tests showed a negative result.

Neither of them said anything, but they reached for each others' hand. As one, the couple turned and headed to the elevator. The Avengers were having lunch together today.

Neither Clint nor Natasha said much during lunch, but both looked around at the rest of their teammates. There was Tony, being his usual loud self, tempered primarily by Pepper's presence at his side. Thor, eating twice as much as everyone else and sounding like someone out of a Kenneth Branagh movie. Bruce, quiet and unobservant, coming out of his shell more each day. And Steve, their de facto leader who was the only one to really notice that something was going on with their team's married assassins.

Steve sent a questioning look in their direction, which Natasha discreetly answered with a smile and a shake of her head. Steve nodded in return and rejoined the general conversation.

Clint looked at Natasha and smiled. She smiled back.

Yes, it was definitely a different set of circumstances. And that opened up a whole new world.

/fin

**Your thoughts? :-) By the way, if there's anything you would like to see in this incarnation of our favorite couple, let me know. Plot bunnies have a way of multiplying. One never knows!**


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